


It Takes An Ocean Not To Break

by tabbytabbytabby



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Dead Sheriff Stilinski, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Kiss, Flying, Grief/Mourning, Hopeful Ending, Leaving Home, M/M, Panic Attacks, Sad Stiles Stilinski, Sort Of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-11
Updated: 2019-08-11
Packaged: 2020-08-19 08:40:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20206879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tabbytabbytabby/pseuds/tabbytabbytabby
Summary: When the Sheriff dies Stiles doesn't handle it well. He spends the days after numb and in a haze or grief. When he gets an unexpected visitor while at his dads grave he's forced to face the pain he hasn't been allowing himself to feel, and along with that decide just where he wants to be.





	It Takes An Ocean Not To Break

**Author's Note:**

> I had no intentions of writing this, but I guess I woke up with angst brain today and wanted to finally try my hand at writing Stackson.  
Title comes from Terrible Love by Birdy.

The rain beats heavily down around him but Stiles barely feels it anymore. He knows it’s probably soaking his clothes but he can’t bring himself to care. He just feels numb. If not from the cold then from the shock of a loss so big he doesn’t know how to handle it.

It had been sudden. One moment he’d been standing in his kitchen laughing with his dad, the next his dad was falling to the ground, clutching at his chest as he looked at Stiles with panicked eyes, telling him to call 911.

Stiles will never forget the look. Nor will he forget those long minutes that stretched by as he sat helplessly next to his dad waiting for the ambulance. He’d held his hand the whole way to the hospital and then into the ER. He’d told his dad he loved him before they wheeled him away, telling Stiles he had to stay in the waiting room.

That had been the last time he saw his dad alive. He’d died a few minutes later when his heart gave out. Scott had been with him then, listening to what was happening behind the doors and relaying it to Stiles. Stiles had fallen to his knees and let out a scream he didn’t know he was capable of when Scott had said the words Stiles never wanted to hear.

“He’s gone. I’m sorry, Stiles. He’s dead.”

Melissa had found them shortly after that. Kneeling down next to him and taking him into her arms. She’d cried with him, telling him how sorry she was and that they did everything they could.

Going back home that night had been too hard, so he’d slept in his jeep until Derek had found him and brought him back to his place. That had been four days ago. Four days without his dad. Without seeing his face or hearing his voice. Four long days where he hasn’t been able to feel anything, even when they planned the funeral or he stood up next to his father’s coffin and had people coming up to him, telling him how sorry they are. How loved his dad was. How much his dad loved him.

Stiles has been at the graveyard since early this morning. He’d only left last night when Derek had dragged him away, telling him he couldn’t sleep there. Stiles had thought about sneaking out and coming back but then exhaustion had crept up on him and he’d fallen into a fitful sleep, only to wake up when the sun came up.

He hears footsteps behind him and turns his head, frowning when he sees Jackson approaching him. He hasn’t seen Jackson since he fucked off back to London almost a year ago. 

“What are you doing here?” Stiles asks, his voice sounding hollow.

“I saw Scott and the others at Scott’s place,” Jackson says. “You weren’t there so I figured you still might be here.”

“That still doesn’t answer my question.”

“Do I need a reason to be here?”

Stiles scoffs, “Yeah you kind of do, Jackson. It’s not like we’re friends or anything. You have no reason to give a shit about me or where I’m at. So just go.”

“No,” Jackson says, his voice firm. 

Stiles turns his head towards him, “Excuse me?”

“You heard me. I’m not going anywhere.’

“Why the hell not?”

“You’re right,” Jackson says. “We’re not friends. But we used to be. When we were kids. Do you remember that?”

“Yeah back before you became a selfish, entitled prick,” Stiles says. 

“I was here when your mom died,” Jackson goes on, ignoring Stiles’ comment. “I remember that day. How sad you were. How you said the only family you had left was your dad. You had nightmares for weeks because you were afraid of losing him too.”

Stiles swallows thickly, “What’s your point?”

“I don’t know,” Jackson says. “I don’t know why I’m here. All I know is I heard about your dad and I thought back to that time. All I could think about was this scared little kid afraid of losing his dad.”

“But I’m not a kid anymore,” Stiles tells him, feeling his anger start to rise. “And I don’t need you here. I don’t need anyone.”

“We both know that’s not true,” Jackson says.

“I don’t!” Stiles shouts, shoving him hard in the chest. When Jackson doesn’t budge, he does it again. “I don’t need you here!” Another shove. “So get the hell away from me!” When Jackson still doesn’t react to his anger he feels it start to morph into something else. His yells turn to sobs as his shoulders start to shake. “Please just leave me alone.”

The numbness has faded, being replaced by the pain he’s kept locked away. Now it’s crashing over him, making it hard for him to breathe. He sinks to his knees next to his father’s grave and buries his hands in his hair. 

He yells, this time out of the overwhelming sadness he feels. He yells even as his throat starts to become raw. He feels hands on his shoulders and a voice saying his name but it all seems far away. The ground sways under him as he finds himself being lifted. He blinks through the rain and tears at Jackson. “Put me down,” he chokes out.

“No,” Jackson says as he starts to walk away. 

Stiles fights against his hold, feeling himself start to panic. “Jackson, put me down. Bring me back. I can’t leave him alone.”

“If you stay there you’ll be joining him,” Jackson tells him. “And we both know your dad wouldn’t want that.”

Stiles sobs and looks over Jackson’s shoulder at the grave. His eyes stay focused on the spot even as it gets smaller and eventually disappears from view. 

“I don’t want to go to Scott’s,” Stiles tells him. His mind is a little more focused now that he’s here, dripping against the leather of Jackson’s car seat. In the past he might have felt smug about it, but now he barely cares.

“Why not?” Jackson asks, glancing over at him before turning back towards the road. “They’re all waiting on you.”

“I know,” Stiles sighs. “And I know they’re worried and they mean well, but they’re just going to fuss over me. That’s not what I need right now.”

“You’re hardly the best one to judge what you need Stilinski considering I found you ready to freeze to death in the rain.”

“I wasn’t going to freeze to death,” Stiles mutters.

“Whatever,” Jackson says, rolling his eyes. “Then where am I taking you?”

Stiles thinks about it. There isn’t really a place for him to go. Not anymore. The thought of stepping back into his house, seeing how empty it is without his dad there and knowing he’ll never set foot in it again, has fear gripping at his heart. He can’t go back there. Not yet. Hell, he doesn’t even want to be in this town at all. 

“I hear London is nice,” Stiles says.

Jackson raises an eyebrow, “London? You want to go to London?”

Stiles shrugs, “Why not? It’s far away from this hell town.”

“Running isn’t going to fix your problems,” Jackson tells him.

“It seems to have worked for you.”

“That’s different.”

“How?”

It just is!”

“I’m not saying I want to stay there forever,” Stiles says. “I just can’t be here, surrounded by all these memories, every day being reminded of what I lost.”

“You know there are a lot of places you could go that don’t involve flying to another country,” Jackson reminds him. “And plenty of other people you could be with.”

“They’ll be walking on eggshells around me,” Stiles tells him. “And you, whatever reason you came here, won’t. You’ll call me on my shit, just like I’ll call you on yours.”

“You want to go to London with me because I’m rude to you?” Jackson asks, tone incredulous. “Maybe I was too late and the cold got to your brain.”

“Are you going to let me come with you or not?”

Jackson sighs, “You’re not going to shut up until I agree to it, are you?”

“Nope.”

“Fine,” Jackson says. “You can come. Seeing as I don’t really have any other choice.”

Stiles smirks and settles back into his seat.

It’s a few minutes later that Jackson speaks again. “Wait, how are you even paying for this?”

“I’m not,” Stiles says. “You are.”

“Seriously? You expect me to just buy you a last minute plane ticket to London?”

“You really going to act like you don’t have the money for it?”

“That’s beside the point, asshole,” Jackson mutters.

He doesn’t put up any further fight and Stiles is relieved. He still holds his breath all through check in and security and all the way up until they’ve boarded the plane. Jackson looks over at him as the plane starts to take off, eyebrow raised. “Have you ever flown before?”

“Of course I have,” Stiles says.

“Any flights that were over 3 hours?”

“Not exactly, no. How long is this flight again?”

“Around 10,” Jackson says.

“Oh.” Stiles fidgets a little in his seat. “What do people do on 10 hour flights?”

“Sleep,” Jackson says. “Or watch a movie. But mostly they keep quiet and don’t annoy the person sitting next to them, who might now be wishing he got a seat on the opposite side of the plane. Because now the flight is going to feel more like 13 hours.”

Stiles knows it’s a jab, but something has just hit him. Something that has him turning towards Jackson. “You took a 10 hour flight to Beacon Hills.”

“Yeah, so?”

“_So_ you took a 10 hour flight to Beacon Hills because my dad died and you knew I’d be upset,” Stiles says. “Because you were worried about me. You care.”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Jackson mutters, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

Stiles smiles for the first time in what feels like weeks. “You do! You care about me.”

The woman across the aisle turns towards them in obvious interest. Jackson rests a hand on Stiles’ leg. To anyone else it would seem like a nice gesture. But Stiles can feel the nails digging in and knows it’s more than that even before Jackson speaks. “Shut the hell up before I paralyze you.”

“You know I’d still be able to talk,” Stiles says.

“Stiles,” Jackson says, his voice holding a note of warning.

“You can deflect all you want but we both know you care about me, Jackson,” Stiles says, not the least bit phased by Jackson’s threat. “So you might as well just…”

His words cut off into a squeak of surprise when Jackson kisses him. It’s all teeth and tongues and every bit as demanding as Jackson is. Stiles’ hands come up, fisting in his shirt, whether to push him away or pull him closer Stiles isn’t sure. 

For all Stiles know his brain is short circuiting. He could still be in the cemetery and hallucinating this whole thing as a way to cope with his pending death.

He hears Jackson snort and it’s only then that he realizes he’s been mumbling the words again his lips. “You’re not hallucinating,” Jackson tells him, amusement clear in his voice. “Though it’s nice to know you’d think of me if you were.”

“Yeah only so I could punch you in the face,” Stiles says, but there’s no heat behind it.

Jackson clearly knows it by the grin on his lips, “Yeah I’m pretty sure you’d rather be doing other things with my face.”

“While that may or may not have been enjoyable.”

“It was.”

“Why did you kiss me?”

Jackson shrugs, sitting back in his seat, “You wouldn’t shut up and that seemed like a good way to do it.”

“Right,” Stiles says. “And that’s the only reason?”

“Look, if you think we’re at the part in some love story where I confess my undying love for you and give some bullshit excuse about being an ass to you because I was harboring some crush that’s not happening,” Jackson says. 

“But you do care,” Stiles says.

“Fine. Yeah. I care,” Jackson says. “Are you happy now?”

He knows the question isn’t a serious one. That it’s not meant to hit Stiles quite the way it does. But it hits him hard all the same. It’s as if the breath has been knocked out of him.

He looks around the plane and tries not to panic as it hits him just what he’s doing. He’s flying to London. With Jackson. He’s leaving Beacon Hills, while not for good, at least for a good while. In fact he just fucking left without even telling anybody. Not Scott or Melissa or Lydia. And his dad…

God what kind of son is he to just run away from all his problems like that? To be kissing someone and enjoying it while his dad is cold and dead and in the ground?

Stiles looks over when he feels a hand on his neck to see Jackson there, closer than before. What’s worse is that he actually looks concerned. “Where is your head?” he asks him.

“My dad,” Stiles whispers. “I… I’d forgotten. Or maybe not forgotten, but I wasn’t thinking about it. About him. He’s been dead a few days and I’m already not thinking about him. What kind of son am I? How could I just do that?”

“You know you can’t think about him all the time,” Jackson says. “He wouldn’t want you to. I’m not the best with this shit or feelings or comfort or whatever. But your dad wouldn’t want you to drown in your grief. He’d want you to live your life. He’d know that you can’t always think about him but just because you’re not doesn’t mean you don’t love him or miss him.”

“Here I thought you didn’t do sappy,” Stiles says. His hands have stopped shaking and his head feels a little clearer now. Weirdly thanks to Jackson.

“Well it was that or let you have a panic attack on the airplane,” Jackson says. 

His finger strokes across Stiles neck, right over his pulse. “Well thanks,” Stiles says, his anxiety now replaced by awkwardness. 

Their eyes meet for a moment before Jackson clears his throat and pulls away. “It’s no big deal.”

It is, but Stiles doesn’t say that. For all his pressing he’s not sure he’s ready to really dive into whatever feelings either of them might or might not have. Maybe he will be one day in the future, when the pain isn’t eating away at his soul like it is now. It’s hard to imagine a time like that. But he knows his dad would want him to get there. So for his sake he has to try, even if it is with the help of someone he never would have expected.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Kudos/Comments make my day♥  
[My tumblr](http://tabbytabbytabby.tumblr.com/)


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